


Why are you up so late?

by wallyreads



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Abuse, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Billy Hargrove Needs a Hug, Billy Hargrove Redemption, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gay Billy Hargrove, Hurt Steve Harrington, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Light Angst, M/M, Protective Billy Hargrove, References to Depression, Steve Harrington Needs a Hug, Stranger Things 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:41:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26149621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wallyreads/pseuds/wallyreads
Summary: Steve has a nightmare. Billy needs to get away from home. Somehow they both find themselves in the same place, alone together. Billy wants to know whats going on with Steve, and Steve just can't keep it to himself anymore.orBilly gets Steve to open up about his nightmares.tw - mentions of emotional abuse and alluding to mental illnesses such as anxiety and depression
Relationships: Billy Hargrove & Steve Harrington, Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 3
Kudos: 209





	Why are you up so late?

**Author's Note:**

> A piece from my prompt list, using prompt #7 "Why are you up so late?" and prompt #25 "You don't get to say that to me!"

Steve didn’t expect to find anyone out by the quarry that night. He was always alone whenever he would drive out to the water, anytime he couldn’t sleep, which was most nights at this point. Sit on the front of his BMW with a six pack of stale beers to his left and a pack of Marlboro’s to his right, a cigarette between his lips as he lets the smoke heat his body. 

He did this often. Found his way out by the water on a bad night, a night he couldn’t sleep, when his nightmares were too loud and every shadow or slight noise made him jump three feet out of his skin. It had become a habit of his, goosebumps constantly rising up his spine at the change of the wind, even the smallest of things causing fear to run through him on instinct, always prepared for the worst to happen.

That’s what most of his nightmares were about. The monsters took up most of his thoughts, but some nights the monsters took the form of other people, like the party, their dead bodies surrounding him because he couldn’t save them, or his parents, just echoes of their empty faces and their harsh words. Sometimes they were even of Nancy, of that night he replays over and over again, the word ‘ _bullshit’_ echoing through his head, bouncing around the walls of his skull. 

And then there was Billy. _Billy_. He often had nightmares about Billy. Not in how you’d expect him to have, though. The nightmares were never about being scared of him, about the harsh words and the harsher fists that Billy had often thrown towards Steve before. No, instead the nightmares were about Billy _not being there._

He wouldn’t know what to do with himself if Billy were to ever get caught up in the horrors of the town of Hawkins. He had forgiven him for that night at the Byers house, never held it against him as much as he tried to. And _trust_ that he tried. Tried so hard to be angry with him. But every time he looked towards him, his blue eyes, thick lashes or that stupid smirk on his face, he couldn’t be mad. Not really. 

And things were better between them, they really were. Things were good. Billy hadn’t really apologised yet, but he didn’t need to. Steve knew he was sorry, knew he didn’t know how to say it, so he showed it as best he could. And Steve understood. He was good at understanding. Understanding that Billy’s effort to befriend Steve, and his effort to not be as much of an asshole to his sister or any of the kids, and his effort to get into less fights were all really an attempt at showing that he was sorry. 

But despite this, it still surprised Steve when he heard the roar of the Camaro, the headlights flashing out onto the water as the car came to a stop next to his own. He didn’t bother to look towards him as the engines turned off, the forest around them darkening, instead he took another drag of his cigarette, listening as Billy opened the car door, continued to listen as the same door closed, the sound of his footsteps taking over, breaking through the quiet of the night.

Billy didn’t speak as he pushed himself up onto the trunk of the BMW, stealing a cigarette from Steve’s pack, lighting it with his own lighter he pulled from the pocket of his jacket, the same one he always wears. They sat in silence for a few minutes like that, none of them bothering to speak, smoke filling the air around them. 

Steve had finished his beer by now, tossing the empty can towards the trees before grabbing another, passing it towards Billy, who took it graciously. They continued to sit in silence, and it wasn’t until they both were on their next beers before Billy decided to say something. 

“ **Why are you up so late?** ” 

Steve wanted to laugh, roll his eyes and ask the exact same question, but he really didn’t have the energy to. He knew Billy wasn’t out there to look for him. People knew he didn’t sleep as much as he should, sure, but no one knew that he often _left_ his house in the middle of the night, let alone where he went, meaning that Billy was also up late, on his own terms, deciding for himself that somewhere like the quarry was a better place for him than back home in a warm bed. But Steve _really_ didn’t want to get into that, into wondering what made _Billy Hargrove_ leave the comfort of his house in the middle of the night. _Part of him knew he didn’t want to know because he knew he probably wouldn’t like the answer._

So instead he answered like he always did when someone would catch him awake at unreasonable times, whenever someone began to show any sign of concern.

“Couldn’t sleep.” Billy huffed out in response, taking another sip of his beer as he watched Steve. He didn’t bother looking back, already having a feeling that his answer wasn’t going to be enough for Billy. He took another sip of his own beer, continuing to stare out towards the trees. Billy huffed out again, gesturing out towards the trees as he spoke.

“So what are you doing all the way out here?” he asked, dropping his arms by his side, looking back towards Steve, who watched the movement out of the corner of his eye. It wasn’t that he _wasn’t_ paying attention, and it wasn’t that he _didn’t_ want to talk to Billy, but he was exhausted, and Billy _wouldn’t understand_ , and then he’d have to deal with more mocking than he already got, and he didn’t want to give Billy, or anyone else another reason to make fun of him, call him a _pussy_ , because _you’re a grown fucking man you shouldn’t have fucking nightmares._

So he sighed out again, thinking, something plain, something _simple_ , something that could mean anything, not necessarily good or bad. Something that wont tell Billy the truth, as much as he felt himself _wanting_ to, wanting to open up to _someone_.

“Just thinking. It’s quiet out here, makes it easier.” It wasn’t a lie, it _was_ quiet out here, but it was quiet at home too. But the quiet of Steve’s too big and too empty house made his skin crawl. He _hated_ the silence he got whenever he was home alone, which was most days at this point. At least out _here_ , amongst the trees and the bugs and the _monsters_ , there was _something_. Some type of noise to distract him from the growing quiet that was his life back home. Something to focus on to distract him from the growing noise in his head, which only grew louder the more quiet it was.

He really wanted Billy to drop it, but he _knew_ Hargrove, knew that dropping it wasn’t an option. He didn’t even have time to think about _why_ Billy actually _cared_ to ask before he answered again, asking another question Steve didn’t want to answer. 

“What about?”

Steve didn’t mean to snap, didn’t want to be angry with Billy, wasn’t even angry at Billy, but his head hurt, and he was exhausted, and his body ached and the one time someone actually cared to ask Steve what was going on it was Billy fucking Hargrove with his stupid blue eyes and stupid concerned face and _god, Steve, fucking snap out of it._

“Why do you care, Billy? And why are you even here?”

Steve was frustrated, but more because he was just plain _confused_. Why now did Billy care? Steve didn’t think he cared that much about him, didn’t think anyone did, didn’t think he was _worth_ _it_. But here he was, sitting on the trunk of his car with someone who looked like they gave a shit, looked like they actually cared. And it _scared_ him, though he wouldn’t want to admit it, that the idea of someone actually caring about him scared him more than anything else.

And Billy didn’t even get mad, which angered Steve more for some reason he would have to unpack later. Instead Billy just shrugged, taking another sip of his beer before answering calmly, as if that’s what they did. As if it was normal for them to have an actual conversation alone in the woods in the middle of the night.

“Needed to get out of the house, didn’t really have anywhere else to go.. and I care, because I’m doing this thing, where I try to not be an asshole, and you look like shit” Billy said back, and it took Steve a moment to register what he actually said, still in a daze by how calm he was, how he wasn’t angry like Steve was.

Steve finally glanced towards Billy, furrowed eyebrows at what he said, and by the look on Billy’s face, he knew exactly what was going through Steve’s mind. He raised his hands as if he was surrendering, chuckling slightly as he spoke.

“Hey I said I was trying, doesn’t mean I’m very good at it.”

Steve just sighed out, looking away again. He knew Billy didn’t mean anything by it, and it really wouldn’t surprise Steve if he did look like shit, but he didn’t even bother to think about it as he thought about what Billy said. _Needed to get out of the house_. Steve knew all about that, but what would drive Billy to need to get away? Before Steve could think about the implications of that sentence, what Billy might have unknowingly shared, Billy continued.

“Just, you look like somethings bothering you.”

Steve closed his eyes for a moment, thinking this over. It felt _weird_ , feeling himself _want_ to open up to Billy. He didn’t even know what Billy and him were. Friends? Maybe.They definitely weren’t the _closest_ people, and they still tend to bump heads a bit, but they had come a long way from being rivals, or enemies, or whatever they were. But then Steve thought about that strange infatuation he found himself having towards the other, knowing that if he opened up, he probably wouldn’t stop, and more feelings would come out, feelings that he still wasn’t even 100% sure of himself. And he didn’t want to risk that.

“It’s nothing, okay? It’s not important.”

Billy paused, thinking, and then the words that left his mouth caused Steve’s blood to boil, the fastest he thinks he has ever gotten angry.

“You should open up to someone about it”

He didn’t know why he was getting so riled up by the thought of Billy telling him to open up, but then he remembered it was Billy, and he was mad and frustrated and exhausted and really wasn’t having a good day. So he scoffed out, finally turning to face Billy.

“What the fuck? No, fuck off Hargrove, _**you don’t get to say that to me!**_ ” Billy seemed stunned by the response, blinked a few times as if trying to register what was actually happening, but before he could say anything, Steve continued, rolling his eyes as he looked away from him.

“ _Open up,_ yeah _fucking right_ , when was the last time you ever opened up to someone? I don’t know a fucking thing about you, other than you have a good right hook and you love your car more than you’ve probably loved anything else in your life!”

Steve could see him tense up out of the corner of his eyes, saw his jaw clench, his fists tightening around his beer. It was obvious that Billy was angry, and Steve knew what he said would’ve pissed Billy off, and maybe he was looking for a fight, wanted to release the built up anger and frustration and _sadness_ in some way. But Billy didn’t budge, stayed silent instead, just watching, waiting for Steve to look, or speak, or _do something_. 

Steve didn’t want to look, he knew what would probably happen if he did. Knew that if he found Billy’s fucking beautiful eyes, he would instantly feel guilty, knowing he didn’t really want to be mean to Billy, that Billy hadn’t done anything wrong, that he was just angry and upset and _weak_. 

And then the guilt started, before he even had a chance to look at him, and when he finally looked up he felt even worse. Billy still didn’t speak as he looked towards Steve, who tried to figure out what the other was thinking, feeling. He looked, _tired_ , something Steve didn’t notice before, and then he felt worse. Billy didn’t want to fight, he wanted to _help_. And Steve wasn’t letting him, because he was _scared_ , of opening up to someone, to Billy.

A groan escaped Steve as he finally pulled his attention from Billy, leaning his head back and closing his eyes, releasing a breath he didn’t even realise he was holding. He paused for another moment, and when Billy remained quiet, he looked back out towards the trees.

“Nightmares, Bill. I get.. I get bad nightmares, and they keep me up all night, and I hate being in that house alone, so..”

And he knew. He knew that it wouldn’t stop there, that it was too late to turn back now. But, a part of him felt relief. But that was buried way down when Billy spoke again, when Steve realised he would have to explain. And that relief was suddenly filled with dread, and then he was _scared again._

“.. what about?” Billy asked, and if Steve was really paying attention and not concentrating on how fast his heart was beating, he would have noticed the soft tone to Billy’s voice, or the way he moved slightly closer to Steve, or that he still hasn’t _looked away._

“Nothing.. everything, I don’t know.” He knew he couldn’t tell Billy about the monsters, what most of his nightmares were about, what not only plagued his dreams but plagued his thoughts, his life. And he definitely couldn’t tell him about his nightmares involving Billy. Just the _idea_ that he has dreams of Billy would probably get him multiple broken bones and bruises. 

“What about tonight then?”

And then he sighed again, glancing towards Billy, concern still written on his face, and when he moved closer, Steve closed his eyes, finally answering what was bothering him tonight, what forced him out of his house and into the darkness of Hawkins.

“My parents.” It was a simple enough answer, one that left Billy questioning what he meant, panicking slightly at what it could mean. Steve looked away again, didn’t notice how Billy instinctively looked him over, looking for any sign of bruising or past injuries, because Billy knew. He knew about having nightmares about your parents, about the things they do that keep you up at night. 

“You have nightmares about your parents?” Billy asked, this time Steve noticing the slight panic, but he brushed it off, because why would he panic? They’re just nightmares, right? I mean, yeah, Steve didn’t have the _best_ relationship with them, and sure, whenever they would _actually_ come home, Steve found himself feeling like even more shit than he already does, but _Billy_ didn’t know that.

And before he knew what was happening, he started to feel defensive, to feel those fears coming back, because it’s stupid, isn’t it? Having nightmares about your parents? And Billy was probably ready to laugh, ready to tease him about something so stupid. So he crossed his arms over his chest, glaring towards him, not wanting to be _weak_ , to be _vulnerable_. 

“What? You’re gonna make fun of me for it?”

Steve had never seen Billy change expressions so quickly, his concern turned to actual panic, something Steve didn’t think he’d ever seen before. Couldn’t think of a time he saw Billy panic in general, didn’t expect Billy to care that much either. But he did, and Steve had no idea why, but he would be lying if he said that it didn’t make him feel a little better.

“No, I.. No” Billy stumbled over his words, sighing out as he paused. He wasn’t good at this, at the whole _talking_ thing. At the whole _friend_ thing, either. But he was trying, and he _really_ didn’t want Steve to think he was just riling him up, looking for a reason to pick on him. Because he wasn’t. He knew about nightmares, about nightmares about your parents, and then he was worried again, and then he was determined.

“Why do you have nightmares about them?”

“.. it’s stupid, really-”

“ _Steve, why do you have nightmares about your parents_?” he asked again, more stern than before, _angry_ , almost, and more concerned than Steve had initially realised. More concerned than Steve had ever seen him. He finally looked to Billy, pausing as he realised Billy was actually _worried_ still, possibly more than before, and Steve wondered what was going through Billy’s head, what he was assuming Steve had meant. And so he spoke, slowly, the words circling around in his head again, the _nightmare_ coming back to him, his _life_ coming back.

“They just.. say things, sometimes”

“What things Steve?”

He didn’t know why he felt the urge to tell Billy everything his parents ever had said to him. He felt like he would tell Billy all of his secrets if he asked, and he _hated_ that. But then he remembered how _worried_ Billy looked, how it actually seemed like he _cared_ , how _close_ they were, and, well, he couldn’t really _stop_.

“That I’m, useless, _worthless_ , I’m not good at anything, I don’t _deserve_ anything, that I’m an idiot, a fucking _retard_ who can’t even _fucking read_ without _spacing out,_ that I’m a fucking _burden_ who they wish they never had, that I’d never be _loved_.. just, fucking _everything_ that could be wrong with someone, anything that would make me feel like complete and utter shit because to them that’s all I fucking am.”

He didn’t realise he had started crying until the lump in his throat grew bigger, causing him to almost choke on the tears, struggling to hold back a sob. He had never said out loud what his parents do, what they say, and for some reason it hurt a hell of a lot more than Steve thought it would. And he felt _stupid_. He felt _so fucking stupid_ , admitting everything to _Billy fucking Hargrove_ , who sat staring at him, frozen, watching as he broke apart on the trunk of his BMW in the middle of _god fucking nowhere_.

“Steve-”

Steve shook his head, wiping harshly at his cheeks. He refused to look at Billy any longer, training his eyes on the trees around him. _This was stupid, Billy didn’t care, why would he? No one cared, so why would this be any different?_

“Look, just, forget it, okay? It’s _stupid_ , this is _stupid_ -” he pushed off away from his car, wanting to get away, not wanting to be here, feel what he was feeling, but Billy didn’t let him get that far, pushing himself from the BMW, reaching out towards the other.

His fingers wrapped around Steve’s wrist, and he flinched, closing his eyes, preparing to be hit for being _stupid_ , for being _weak_ , preparing to be told to _grow the fuck up and get over it_ , but it never came. Instead, he felt himself being pulled towards Billy, before two arms wrapped around his back, and when he opened his eyes, all he could see was Billy’s blond curls.

“What are you doing?”

Billy just huffed out, but it didn’t sound like he was annoyed, or angry, or upset. He was just, _tired_. And Steve didn’t think he had ever related to Billy as much as he did now. _Tired_. And then he answered, pulling Steve even closer.

“Hugging you”

“Why?”

“Just, relax, Steve. It’s okay.” And then Steve felt himself finally let go, no longer trying to maintain his tears, keep in his sobs. Because he was _tired_. He was really fucking tired, of keeping in all the shit that happens, pretending that everything was fine when they weren’t, and someone _finally_ actually fucking cared. So he let himself sob into Billy’s shoulder, let his once enemy hug him and hold him in the middle of fucking nowhere, hold him until the tears ran out.

And maybe it wasn’t that bad. Letting people in, letting people help, letting people _care_. Maybe.


End file.
